I’m writing this in May, but you will receive it in June. As you read it, I’ve just left the Australian national SF convention and am packing up, ready to go home. I might even be on my way home. As the crow flies, it’s over 3000 km from Perth to my flat. Distances in Australia are what they are.
When I lived in Sydney, I explained that going to Perth meant going from the Pacific to the Indian Oceans. Canberra is inland a way, however, so it’s a shorter route and there’s only one ocean involved.
In my dreams I take the train from Adelaide across the Nullarbor. The Nullarbor Plain’s name describes it literally – hundreds of kilometres with no trees – which means the night sky is apparently brilliant. The train costs, alas, more than my whole eight days in Perth, including flights and food and conference, so this is a dream. A friend (and her dog, Bill) will drive across the Plain the day I fly, however, and has promised to look up and wave.
What am I doing at the SF convention, besides talking (to anyone who wants to hear) about my books? I am in charge of the Humanities part of the academic programme. I’m also giving a workshop. And I intend to spend much time in the dealers’ room with friends.
If I’m already home when you read this, I suspect I’ll be catching up on sleep. Just suspect, mind!